Deluge
by epicfrenchfry
Summary: It's England's birthday and just when he feels that he's been forgotten a surprise visit from some friends jerks him back to reality. Light PrUk HETALIA IS NOT MINE THIS A FANFICTION


**Happy birthday England! I love you! **

**So this a new ship for me. I like PrUk but have never written for it before, so I apologize in advance if it seems awkward or forced. There's only a little bit though so it shouldn't be too bad.**

**By the way, I acknowledge my severe laziness but I managed to write this in a few hours and my next goal is to finish up the next chapter of Exceeding Expectations.**

* * *

Rain pattered against the sidewalk. People hurried back and forth to their destinations, hunched under drenched umbrellas. Arthur Kirkland sat on his front porch, sipping hot tea with a gray fleece blanket wrapped around him. It was so peaceful today, with the quiet splashing and smell of the rain.

It also happened to be his birthday.

So far he'd received a begrudging text from his eldest brother, Scotland, saying a simple 'Happy birthday asswad'. He wasn't too bothered by this. It was kinder than how the Scotsman usually spoke to him, after all. He was, admittedly, a little hurt that none of his so-called 'friends' had bothered to say anything.

He would have been lying if he said America's silence hadn't hurt him the most. The loud-mouthed burger addict hadn't been on Facebook or Twitter all day, which was highly unusual for him. What stung the most was the fact that he, against all odds, had gone to his dear former colony's 'birthday bash' the previous year, despite coughing up mouthfuls of blood, and America couldn't find the time to send one measly text?

He gritted his teeth. How unjust!

Of course, this wasn't the first birthday he'd spent alone. In fact, the times he'd spent lonely heavily outweighed the times he'd been happy. Was this grief and melancholic misery that dogged him a side effect of the rain that plagued London, his capital, his heart?

In the hundreds of years he'd been alive, he had never before considered this. He'd always accepted this idle sadness to be a part of him. Well, to quote the war Doctor, no more. Gallifrey falls no more. England falls no more.

He drained the last of his tea and set it down roughly. He could see someone approaching his townhouse... was that _Prussia_? It was! The cocky albino was strutting casually up to him, smirking up a storm despite the downpour.

"Hey Brows!" He shouted, smirking even wider.

"Hello Gilbert." England replied tiredly. Why was he here?

"Happy birthday Brows." Prussia grinned.

"Thanks!" The blonde blinked. He remembered?

"What do you say to getting a drink or two with me?" Prussia proposed.

"With you, it's more like twelve." England muttered to himself. "That sounds great Gil, thanks." He said louder.

"No prob, Brows. Come on then, where's your favorite bar? No wait, you call it a pub over here don't you?" Prussia led him away. Giving him a weary look, England followed. He was, of course, not suspicious in the least.

* * *

"Alright, he got him out!" America cheered. "Let's go!"

"Alfred, what exactly are we doing?" Germany asked.

"Throwing a surprise party for old Iggybrows, duh! Where have you been, Ludwig?" America swatted his arm playfully. Germany's eye twitched. Italy giggled.

"Oh, right. It's the limey bastard's birthday today." Romano recalled.

"Yeah! So now we have to throw a surprise birthday party for him while Gilbert has him at the bar!" America pumped his fist in the air enthusiastically. "I'm the hero, so I'm naturally in charge!"

"Silly Amerique, I'm afraid Angleterre is so prickly even if you did succeed in this endeavor, he wouldn't appreciate it!" France sighed negatively.

"Shut up Francis. Okay, let's do this people! Francis, you and Iggy's brothers have known him the longest. You guys are in charge of the present! Make it good! Feliciano, Lovino, you two are in charge of cooking! Antonio, make some delicious Spanish snacks. Everyone else, either cook with those three or you're with me, decorating!"

Italy and Romano went to the kitchens with Spain to make some quality Italian food while everyone else started gathering party decorations from the boxes America had brought.

* * *

England was on his third beer, feeling a bit tipsy but not yet drunk.

"I think that's enough now, Brows." Prussia suggested with a barely suppressed laugh. He reached out and gently removed the beer bottle from his friend's hand.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." England murmured, eyelids drooping. Prussia finished off the last of his beer for him and the pair left after the albino paid.

"My treat!" He'd insisted.

Prussia took his hand and jerked him along. The rain had stopped by now and the pleasant after-rain smell filled his nose. England breathed deeply, sighing contentedly.

"I love London." Prussia said suddenly, releasing him.

"What?" England asked in surprise.

"I love London. It's so pretty at night." Prussia looked at him fondly, taking his hand again. England looked away, self-conscious.

"You don't mean that." He muttered.

"Of course I do."

"You and everyone else are always complaining about how it always rains here, though."

"It does rain an awful lot, but the rain just makes it prettier. The way it glitters..." Prussia looked around affectionately. England looked at his feet. Why did this upset him so much? He loved the compliments to his capital, but it made him strangely uncomfortable.

Prussia looked at him piercingly. Those attractive red eyes of his seemed to glow in the light of the street lamps. England found himself captivated by their alluring power.

"Your eyes are beautiful." The albino leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over his cheek. "So many delicate shades of green, blended together but still discernible if you look closely. So gorgeous."

"Big words for you, Gilbert." England scoffed. The ex-nation rolled his eyes as they started to walk again.

"You're an ass, Brows."

"Don't call me that."

"It suits you though."

"Shut up." England sighed. Prussia chuckled. "I can't win with you, can I?"

"Nope!" Prussia grinned.

* * *

Alfred was waiting impatiently. "Dude, we're done! Where are they?!"

"On their way, you impatient imbecile!" France glowered. "Gilbert just texted me."

"Finally!" America whined.

* * *

England walked up the steps to his house. What was this sense of foreknowledge he suddenly possessed?

"Gilbert. What's going on?" He asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, why?" Prussia lied easily.

England opened the door and watched balefully as the lights turned on and his friends jumped out. "Happy birthday!" They all screamed. He stared blankly and then walked into the kitchen to make some black tea, but was met by Italy who forced him into a chair and fed him (admittedly delicious) pasta.

God dammit. Why? Why was this happening to him? Why him? Why? Why? Why? he kept asking himself.

Prussia patted his shoulder as the Italian brothers served the dinner. "Let it go, Brows. Don't keep it bottled up. You're pissed that we did this."

"No, not that you did this. Just that its 9 o'clock and I have half the world in my house." England chuckled dryly as he began to eat his pasta. Prussia joined him, sitting awkwardly close. He gave him a sideways look.

"What's up?" Prussia asked nonchalantly, drinking some beer Germany had brought.

"Nothing." England said dully. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed." He got up and walked off. Prussia sweatdropped.

"Hey, Iggy! Where are you going?" America called.

"He's going to bed. He doesn't appreciate this, I told you!" France grumbled.

"Alfred... thanks. Really, thank you so much for all of this. I'm really grateful, but frankly I feel like shit." He climbed the rest of the stairs and went into his bedroom.

"Well this was a huge waste of time." America laughed uneasily when everyone glared at him.

* * *

England lay facedown on his bed, sighing deeply. If nothing else, at least he knew he was cared for. Thinking of this, he allowed a smile to grace his lips and he closed his eyes.

* * *

**This was fun. I feel like it got a bit off track but I did my best to fix it without ruining the story. Was it good? Was it decent? **

**And again, happy birthday England! **


End file.
